


Under My Skin

by ferix79



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Cuddling & Snuggling, FFXV kinkmeme, Hospitalization, Hurt/Comfort, Iggy needs support too, Multi, Noct in a Wheelchair for a while, Panic Attacks, Paralysis, Physical Therapy, Prompto learning things, The boys being supportive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 02:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10401759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ferix79/pseuds/ferix79
Summary: Noctis takes a nasty hit from an MT and becomes temporarily paralyzed from the hips down. The boys struggle to find balance as Noctis pushes forward in his recovery, determined to relearn how to walk for the third time in his life.Rewritten and reposted, and for the Kink Meme





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Back again with this fic, rewritten to be better. 
> 
> [Kinkmeme Prompt](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/841.html?thread=785481)
> 
> To the OP of the prompt, if you happen to see this again- I'm so sorry I messed up your original fill and deleted it. I hope you see this new fill and are happy with it.

It happened in a split second. At first it was just a prick in his lower back, but before he could even turn his head he was being turned into a pincushion for the magitek trooper’s needles. He tried to twist away, but the resulting sensation could only be described as feeling his own skin and muscle pull away from his bones, and he immediately decided he never wanted to experience that again. Surely Prompto, Ignis or Gladio had noticed the MT skewering him in the middle of the battlefield by now. They’d be over any second to save—

The electricity ripped through him like a hot knife through butter. For those long few moments, all he knew was pain. It radiated out from the entry wound on his back, wrapped its tendrils around his lungs and shot down his arms and legs. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe and he was sure his heart actually stopped beating for a moment. His mouth was open, trying to yell, but he couldn’t hear himself making any noise, only the harsh static of the electricity frying him alive.

That thing could have had him in its grips for two seconds or two minutes, Noctis wasn’t sure. But finally, _finally_ , it released him, lifting him higher up in the air for a moment before flinging him to the side. It turned away, presumably to seek out its next target. It must think him dead, Noctis thought, all the better for him, because he was most certainly _not_. He called a blade to his side, hand easily settling around the familiar weight and pushed up off the ground, ready to charge back into battle as soon as he got up…

As soon as he got up…!

 _Up! Up! Stand up!_ His mind screamed at his body to cooperate, but to no avail. What the fuck was wrong with him? He looked down, then, but saw no immediate damage to his legs. Still they lay there, motionless and useless. He tried a little less, just to pull his knees in so he could sit up, but again, nothing. The chaos of battle still whirled around him; he couldn’t stay here for long. Yet all he could do was lie there, staring down at his unmoving legs, until it dawned on him that he was entirely out of ideas.

“Noct!”

Gladio shouting his name was all the warning he got before the man was on top of him, shielding him with his entire body. The speed at which Gladio dove caused them to skid several feet, when they stopped he was effectively pinned between the highway guard rail and his shield. Behind Gladio a powerful fira spell whirled by, courtesy of Ignis no doubt. The wall of fire slammed into the remaining MTs, searing into their armor as their dying shrieks filled the air.

Gladio kept him pinned as they listened to Prompto firing off a few more rounds. Noctis knew his shield was just doing his job—had likely saved his life—but his back and hips were in an unnatural twist up against the metal guard rail and it was starting to get painful. Surely Gladio wouldn’t mind if he just twisted his hips a little, right? He commanded his legs to move, his earlier attempt already forgotten, but his hips wouldn’t cooperate. He tried again, then once more and then, looking down, it finally hit him.

When Gladio slammed them to the ground, one of Noctis’ shins had driven up against the metal railing. He knew this, because he was staring right at his legs pressed awkwardly into the metal, but he felt no pain. He couldn’t feel his legs.

He couldn’t move his legs, either.

He didn’t know why the air between himself and Gladio had suddenly disappeared, but it was gone and so was he. Everything around him was all too much; Gladio was too close and the temperature was staggeringly hot and there was definitely a full grown garula sitting on his chest, but he was powerless to stop any of it. He pushed against Gladio’s chest with all the strength he had, trying to roll onto his side in the hope that the larger man would get the message and _move_ because words were beyond him, at the moment. Of course the big lug had to pick this time to be completely oblivious!

After a few more moments Gladio rolled off of him, giving him a little more space. Noctis tried to calm his breathing down, but he found no relief. His chest was heaving for air, lungs desperately trying to hold down a breath, but every time he managed to inhale even the smallest bit it was gone all too fast.

“Hey…hey, Noct, you’re alright, it’s gonna be okay, champ—Iggy!” He barely registered Gladio mumbling to him before the loud shout startled him back to attention—by the Six, did he really have to scream at the top of his lungs? He turned his head a little, trying to focus on the man crouching next to him, but it felt like Titan had set off an earthquake in his body. Despite pain and exhaustion overwhelming his senses he couldn’t stop shaking; it felt like he was vibrating with energy, but on the verge of passing out at the same time.

For what it was worth, Gladio looked like he was trying. Noctis felt gentle hands on his back and under his legs as he was moved away from the guard rail. Well, at least he didn’t _look_ like he had a broken back now, but he sure as hell still felt like it.

Ignis took no time in getting to them, skidding to a stop on his knees in the grass next to Gladio. The shock that washed over his adviser’s face told him that he realized what was wrong. He could only hope that Ignis would have a better way of getting the air back in his lungs, because he was really, really not feeling okay right now.

“You’re alright, Noct, focus on me, yes…that’s it, just focus on me,” Prompto dashed into his line of sight in the background and his eyes flickered wildly to the blonde. But the feeling of Ignis’ gloved hand on his cheek was grounding, and the meaning behind the man’s words ebbed into his brain, seeming to stick with him. Focus on Ignis. Yeah, okay, he could do that.

“Keep your eyes on me, don’t worry about anything else, and I want you to put your hand over your mouth, okay? Like this,” Ignis guided his hand up to his face for him, guiding his trembling fingers to form a cup shape, “I’m going to move you to sit up, alright? It’s going to help you breathe easier,” Noctis jerked his head up and down, trying his best to communicate that he did understand what Ignis was asking of him. The familiar weight of Gladio’s hand in his was comforting as he let himself be pulled up against the other man’s chest.

Ignis started counting to help him get his breath back, in for seven, out for eleven. The first cycle, he was convinced he would never be able to keep up. After just a count of _two_ his lungs were spasming and forcing the air back out again. By the time Ignis got to six he was able to just barely inhale again, but then the counting started over and he was supposed to exhale now, right? Tears sprung to the corners of his eyes at the thought of exhaling for _eleven counts_ , but Ignis kept counting, encouraging him along the way, and somewhere between the ninth and tenth cycles Noctis lost count. The world was considerably more tipsy now, but he was considerably more relaxed.

“Everything alright down there?” Were the words that drew him back, and he’s greeted by Ignis’ easy smile. Prompto was closer now, crouching down on his other side with a similar, if uneasy expression. He smiled with them, even if he didn’t quite have a reason to, while Gladio patted the back of his hand.

“Think you can stand, Noct?”

His smile broke apart, shattered into a thousand pieces and fell off his face, only to be replaced by abject horror. The reality of the situation whipped back around and slapped him in the face.

“Guys I…I can’t feel my legs.” He was surprised the admission didn’t send him tumbling back into the throes of a panic attack, but it didn’t. Yet, anyway.

His three partner’s faces were the picture of shock, Prompto moreso than the other two. Well, he couldn’t see Gladio’s face at the moment, but Prompto hadn’t been around in those early years, when his life revolved around the loss of function in his legs, so he guessed that Prompto was the most surprised.

“Gladio, lay him back down flat, and be careful.” The shield followed Ignis’ command, swearing under his breath. Ignis shared the sentiment, it seemed, “We were foolish to move you without suspecting a back injury first; I’m so sorry, Noct.”

And there it was: The Tone. He knew that tone, when Ignis’ words started to get impersonal and strict. It wasn’t that his adviser _wanted_ to distance him; that tone meant that Ignis was on the verge of panic on the inside, but was trying his absolute best to keep a calm exterior. Mostly, though, that tone tended to lead up to a trip to the hospital. Noctis didn’t doubt that was where this lovely experience was going, too.

After Gladio pulled his hand away from Noctis’ back and came out with a bloody palm, he knew that the hospital was _definitely_ where this trip was going.

Ignis started giving instructions to the other two, cool and calm. Prompto was to support his head and neck while Gladio and Ignis teamed up on one side. Before he could even blink his adviser had a potion in his hands, and the two were gingerly rolling him onto his stomach to get a better look at his back.

“I’ve got you, buddy,” Prompto’s voice brought him back to reality as the blonde settled by his head, lying a comforting hand in the crook of his neck. “Are you…are you doing okay?”

Noctis groaned. _Okay_ was a relative term. Aside from his legs not working, he wasn’t doing that bad. The pain in his back was definitely the worst, but he could feel the puncture wounds slowly knitting back together as the potion took effect. His head ached something awful and his whole body would probably be sore tomorrow from the MT’s electric shock, but—

With Gladio and Ignis shifting him around, his hands accidentally swiped against the fabric of his pants. He hadn’t noticed the large, warm, wet spot down the front of his cargos before.

His reaction was immediate; a full body flush rushed down his skin and he felt unbearably warm. Eye contact with any of the other three became very difficult all of the sudden, and his lips tightened into a thin pressed line. Maybe the other three hadn’t noticed yet? Teeth worried at his bottom lip as he scrambled for options. There was _no way_ they hadn’t noticed by now; Ignis was crouching so close to him and Prompto was looking on from overhead and Gladio was looking over his shoulder _and—_

“…Noct?” Hesitant, Prompto poked his head a little further into Noctis’ field of vision. The prince jumped at the sound of his name, all of his insecurities and fears rushing to the front of his brain. Oh god, they already knew, didn’t they? Had they not mentioned anything out of pity, because they didn’t want him to feel like any more of an invalid than he already _did?_

Gladio took an interest in his sudden change of mood, too, and shuffled closer, “Somethin’ up, Noct? You’ve got to tell us before we can help, c’mon.” A warm hand rubbed up and down his bicep, but touch was the last thing he was seeking now. If anything, he flinched away from the well-meaning hand.

“My…my pants are wet.”

Time seemed to freeze between the four, none of them moving or uttering a sound. He was right, then; the other three noticed his affliction earlier, but didn’t say anything out of some sort of misplaced pity. Well, Noctis didn’t want their pity, he just wanted to be alone, and fully functioning, and literally anywhere other than lying here thinking about his partners turning into his caretakers for the rest of his life.

“Noctis,” Gladio’s firm voice startled him out of his downward spiral, enough for him to realize tears were threatening to spill over onto his cheeks. His tone was anything but harsh, though; it was patient and empathetic and demanding his attention, so Noctis had no choice but to drag his gaze up to Gladio’s. “It’s your body’s natural response to losing muscle control. I know it’s not the answer you want to hear, but there’s nothing you or anyone here can do about it. There’s no shame in it—even though I’m sure you think there is—and no one here is going to think any less of you, alright?” The prince didn’t respond, but succumbed to his instincts and sniffed back tears. Dammit why was he _crying_ , “Maybe…Iggy can help you change in the car? If it will make you feel better?”

It would still be awkward and degrading, Noctis thought, but the idea of dry pants was too appealing to pass up. “Y-yeah, I guess that would be okay.” His voice was full of gravel from holding back tears, but just a response was good enough for the rest of them.

They transported him to the car—luckily just up the road—in an awkward three man carry; Prompto supporting his head and shoulders, Ignis his back and Gladio his hips and legs. It was difficult, but kept his spine aligned as best they could manage, and once in the car Prompto had to sit in the seat well because Noctis needed the whole back seat to lie out without bending or curling up. Ignis dismissed himself to fetch a washcloth and a clean pair of Noctis’ sweatpants from the trunk, and Prompto settled down in the meanwhile, nudging his forehead against Noct’s temple.

“No judgment from me, yeah? It’s okay, dude, this stuff just…happens.” A soft pressure indicated where Prompto pressed his lips into Noctis’ hair, though the prince didn’t turn his head to meet him.

“I know, it’s just…” his voice was finally coming back to him, but it was perhaps Prompto’s presence that was calming, too. The blonde hadn’t seen all the ups and downs, the highs and lows of his childhood injury and recovery, so his reactions felt more…authentic? Comforting? Noctis couldn’t place it, “When I was a kid, in the wheelchair, it happened sometimes, but it was different then. I was, what, eight? Kids are kids—kids have accidents, so no one really cared or made a big deal out of it. My caretakers rushed me off and I bathed and changed and it was over. Here it’s…you can’t just look the other way, you know?”

“We’re not here to look the other way, Noct, we’re here to help you,” Ignis reemerged from around the car, wetting a washcloth with some water from one of the many bottles they kept stored in the trunk. He handed the remaining half to Prompto and rung out the washcloth, then hung both the clean sweatpants and damp cloth over the side of the car, “Even if it’s not the most glamorous situation, it must be done. And don’t worry,” Ignis said, looking up to meet Noctis’ eyes, “I know you can do this yourself. But, right now, we don’t know the extent of your back injury, so you need to move as little as possible in this whole process. I promise, once the doctors tell us how to proceed, I’ll leave you to your own devices.”

“Yeah, so put those thoughts out of your mind focus on getting better, yeah?” Gladio chimed in from the front seat, turning around to take Noctis’ hand in his. The prince averted his eyes, but squeezed Gladio’s hand nonetheless. Grabbing the last item he’d fetched out of the trunk—a bath towel—Ignis rolled it into a tight log and lifted Noctis’ hips with Prompto’s help, slipping it under the prince.

“It’ll keep your hips up off the seat so you don’t have to,” Ignis informed him, beginning to undo the tie on his pants, “And I’ll be done before you know it.” Noctis said nothing, but nodded slightly, his jaw still tense with embarrassment.

Just as Ignis described, the whole ordeal was quite quick and Noctis was forever thankful to feel dignified and a little more normal again. Before climbing out of the back seat, Ignis took Noctis’ hand from Gladio’s grasp and gave him his own reassuring squeeze. The advisor was having trouble finding the words, but he wanted Noct to know they were here for him, no matter where the road led.

 

* * *

 

Being just past nine on a Thursday morning, Lestallum’s emergency room was blessedly empty. After pulling up in the roundabout just outside the doors, Ignis stepped inside to inform the staff that they were transporting someone with a potential spine injury. A stretcher was rushed out but, from then on, Ignis, Gladio and Prompto had to step aside and let the medical staff work. Prompto was disappointed that they couldn’t even help lift Noctis out of the car, though the prince looked surprisingly okay with all the foreign hands touching him. It must have been something he was used to, Prompto realized, from his childhood.

Several hours and cups of coffee later, they were permitted to see him again. The nurse informed them that the doctors were still interpreting the results from the various scans and diagnostics he was put through, and the results would be delivered as soon as they were finished.

“We’ve elected to keep him here at least overnight. Spine injuries are very delicate, and we want him to be able to recover as quickly as possible.” The three nodded, voicing their understanding and their thanks as they entered Noctis’ room. The prince lied motionless on the hospital bed, his blank stare tipped up towards the ceiling, not acknowledging any of them as they entered.

“We’ll be sure to call for you, should anything happen,” Ignis said with a short bow, and the nurse left them to their privacy.

Prompto approached the bed first, wringing his hands as he inched closer, not wanting to startle Noctis. “Heeyyy buddy, doin’ okay?” he said, only a foot or so from the bed. The prince slowly turned towards the source of noise, the glassy sheen of his eyes giving Prompto quite a scare before his gaze faded into something resembling recognition.

“Oh,” he mumbled, distant, “hey guys.” Prompto shared a look with Gladio and Ignis when they joined him around the bed, but said nothing otherwise.

“How are you feeling, Noct?” Ignis pulled a chair in close to the bedside, sitting so he was closer to Noctis’ eye level.

“Uhhmm…” he felt like his brain was on a delay, unable to process anything that wasn’t all the medical stuff the doctors had thrown at him over the past couple hours, “Pretty terrible, I guess.” He lifted a hand, rubbing at one of his eyes. His head was still pounding despite all the pain relievers they pumped into him.

“Is there anything you need? Water, food?”

“No, I…I’m just glad you guys are here,” Noctis admitted, letting his head relax back against the pillows. Yes, at least they were here; they were about the only thing he had to look forward to.

“Well, we’re glad to be here,” another chair pulled up beside Ignis, Gladio straddling it while he rested his arms on the back. Prompto finally realized why sitting was a good idea and plunked himself down into the nearest plastic hospital chair.

“How was your treatment, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ignis inquired, trying to keep Noctis’ mind on the present rather than whatever dark paths it was wont to wander down.

“Nah, it’s cool. And it was fine, uh, yeah, for the most part.”

“For the most part?” Gladio prodded.

Noctis gave him a strained look, “I just don’t like being pumped full of drugs, alright? It was fine, other than that. The doctors are great, they told me everything that they were doing, and why, but I’ve had like four shots and two IVs put in since I was wheeled in the door. I’m a little over being a pincushion for today.” Prompto shuddered at the thought. So many needles…

“Why so many needles?” Ignis asked, as if reading the blonde’s mind, and Noctis let his eyes roll up to the ceiling. What were all the terms the doctors said?

“The IVs were for hydration and pain killers…morphine. And the shots were all steroids, or, maybe three were steroids and one was a muscle relaxer, for before I got the MRI.”

“An MRI?” Prompto asked, stretching out the acronym, “What’s what?”

“An MRI is a type of medical imaging test that doctors use to diagnose a multitude of injuries—”

“They roll you into a tiny metal tube for half an hour and take x-rays—er, really advanced x-rays. All while the machine makes a racket and you’re forced to lie completely still the whole time.” Noctis offered, sounding not the least bit upset that he was subject to such a procedure.

“Yes, it’s that, too,” Ignis smiled, crossing one leg over the other. Well, at least the prince’s spunk wasn’t a total loss.

Prompto visibly paled as his words sunk in, breath dying in his throat as his stomach roiled just at the idea of being stuck like that. Well, _that_ was a good incentive to never get injured in battle again.

“Yeah, I felt the same way,” Noctis chuckled, “That’s what the muscle relaxer’s for, so you don’t really feel like moving around much.”

“I’ll leave the MRI-ing to you then, bud,” he shook off the fear creeping up his back, leaning over to pat Noctis on the knee before he even realized what he was doing, “Oh! I—I’m sorry, was that ok—”

He chuckled again, dismissing the gesture with a wave, “It’s fine, Prom. My legs aren’t hurt, I just didn’t feel it.” Prompto blinked at him, his hands stuck beneath his thighs as he considered the comment. He was surprised Noctis wasn’t freaking out more, to say the least.

They all fell into a comfortable silence after that, not really sure what to say. All they could do was wait for the nurse or doctor to return with the diagnosis. Until then, nothing.

Eventually, Noctis yawned, long and deep, and snuggled back into the pillows a little more. At least the bed was soft; softer than anything they didn’t have to pay ten thousand gil a night for.

“You should sleep, Noct, you must be exhausted,” Ignis offered, leaning in a little closer to run a hand through the prince’s messy hair.

“I’m just” Noctis sighed, clicking his tongue, “I’m really scared, you guys.” The confidence and ease dropped out of his voice like a rock, and Ignis’ hand froze where it lay against Noctis’ head. It was difficult to admit, being scared. They were royalty, or at least working with royalty; Noctis never saw his dad admit that he was scared, but how was he expected to sit there, enduring all these obstacles and _not_ be anything but horrified? “What if I don’t get better? What if I can’t ever walk again?” His voice cracked towards the end, just a little, “What are we going to do?”

“Let us worry about that, yeah? Remember what I told you; I focus for you when you can’t? This is exactly what I’m talkin’ about. You worry about getting better, we’ll worry about where we go from here.” As always, the finality in Gladio’s voice left little room for argument. Noctis knew he wouldn’t be getting much more out of Ignis for now, if the cracking façade of his confidence was anything to go by. And the situation was completely foreign to Prompto, so he was out of options.

“Can you promise me you’ll wake me if they come back with an answer?” He pushed, trying to fight the exhaustion overtaking him. Gladio stood, gently ruffling his hair before pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Fine, but only if you sleep now, princess.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice…” Gladio tugged Ignis up to stand, leading the adviser out of the room as Noctis let his eyes slip closed.

“Watch over him for a minute, blondie. We don’t have time for any comas this time around.”

“You bet!” Prompto called back, leaning in to whisper into Noctis’ ear, “Go back to sleeping, beauty.” Noctis reluctantly broke into a smile at the familiar words, swatting at Prompto before drifting off again as the lights in the room were shut off.

Gladio took Ignis by the hand and dragged him out of the room, pretending he didn’t notice the tremor in his partner’s hand. They passed by a few hospital staff in the hallway before they found a little alcove leading to an emergency exit. Quiet and away from the bustle of the regular hallways, it was the best place they would find to talk for now.

“Alright, Iggy, what’s up? I know you’ve been acting off, so don’t play coy with me.”

Ignis took a deep breath, trying to collect himself, but it was already a lost cause because he’d left part of himself back in the room with Noct.

“Gladio I…” he tried, but found that the truth was still caught in his throat, refusing to come out, “I can’t shake this feeling of fear, fear that I don’t know what’s going to come next or what to do. Seeing him just _lying there_ in that bed, thinking that he’ll never walk again…It’s difficult to process.” Gladio nodded, crossing his arms and letting Ignis take a breather. He knew the man had more to say.

“When he was younger, after he returned from Tenebrae, I was going through so much schooling at the time. Even though I knew he was lonely and wanted companionship, there was hardly a minute I could tear myself away from my studies. I ended up only seeing him for a few hours at a time, and just to play or read or go through the gardens together. Gladio, I n-never…” he trailed off, breaking away from Gladio’s gaze and shaking his head, “I never took care of him. I never had to help him when he couldn’t do something or get somewhere because of the chair or his lack of mobility. We have to get him all the way to _Altissa_ , Gladio, but I don’t have the first clue on how to care for him—”

“Alright, Ig, I get it,” Gladio stopped him with a hand held up in between them, “Listen, I know where you’re coming from and I understand why you’re afraid, but I think you’re not looking at the situation right.” Ignis almost spoke up again, wanted to rebut the accusation, but Gladio spoke first.

“My first real interactions with Noctis were when he was in that wheelchair. My dad told me what I’d be doing before he and the King even returned to the Citadel—anytime I wasn’t training or in school I’d be at his side, being his bodyguard, because that was my job and it was high time I got around to learning how to do it,” Gladio explained, crossing his arms and shifting his weight to one side, “Now, let me tell you what I thought I was going to be doing because, as you can imagine, twelve-year-old me was not very thrilled at the prospect, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to talk back to my dad.”

“I knew that the Amicitia were trained to be the King’s shield, but I thought all my prospects for fighting with a giant, cool sword had just flown out the window. I couldn’t _believe_ they were going to make me be this kid’s caretaker, ‘cause wasn’t that what nurses and maids were for? But I couldn’t go against my dad or the King so, first day, I showed up and met little wheelchair-bound Prince Noctis,” he sing-songed the last few words, tilting his head to the side for emphasis. “Everyone looked at him with all this pity in their eyes—and I couldn’t blame them, kid had been through a lot, you know?”

“So I followed him back up to his room and I thought he'd need help with everything. First thing I did was ask if he needed help in the bathroom. Bad idea, turns out, because he slammed the door in my face.” He couldn’t help but shudder at the memory. What a terrible first meeting they’d had.

“What I’m saying is I came in and assumed a lot about him, and it backfired on me bad. I thought he couldn’t do anything because he was young or whatever, but he knew his stuff. I might have helped him a couple times, when the chair would get stuck or something, but I could count on one hand the amount of times it happened. By the time he was walking on his own again, I realized my dad put me up to the task because he wanted me to get to know Noct and learn how to be at his side. And no one could just brief me on that, I couldn't just read a report on how to be friends with the prince, you know? He wasn’t—He isn’t an issue to be dealt with or a problem to be solved. He was just a kid that needed a friend, and now he’s a partner that needs support.”

Ignis decided he felt much like a hot air balloon without any air, or maybe a fish out of water. Thank goodness Gladio had the presence of mind to pull him out of that room, because Eos only knew what he would be doing at the moment if he hadn’t. A firm hand on his shoulder startled him back to reality.

“So I know this is hard for you, but I need you to calm down, relax, and trust in Noctis. He doesn’t remember a time in his life that didn’t include you, so think about that. If you asked him straight up, Ig, what you meant to him, he’d lie and say a friend, a partner, and a teammate, but you and I both know you’re more than that to him,” Gladio’s sharp gaze bore into Ignis’ and the advisor almost flinched away, but he knew he was better than that. “He looks up to you, Iggy, and your being calm and collected tells him that everything’s okay and he doesn’t have to worry. It gives him confidence. If you’re a bumbling mess he’s going to notice, and it’s not going to help anyone.”

Gladio closed his eyes for a moment and sighed, trying to drain the tension and harsh lines out of his face. He wasn’t trying to be unkind to Ignis, but the truth was the truth, and he needed to say it. “But I know you’re better than that, and Prompto knows that you’re better than that, and Noct does, too. You’ve got three pieces of the puzzle; all you need is the fourth one. So it's okay to be scared, it's okay to not know, you've just got to trust in the rest of us.”

Ignis deflated a little bit more, if that was even possible, but then took a shuddering inhale. It was foolish to think of himself as an island, as an entity that never bent or broke in the face of struggle, or as one that did not need the same kind of support he so freely gave. On his exhale he leaned forward and rested his forehead on Gladio’s shoulder. His partner’s arms wound loose around his waist in response. He felt grounded.

“Thank you, Gladio…”

 

* * *

 

They rented one of the few accessible suites at the Leville the morning after Noctis was admitted to the hospital—they couldn’t _all_ stay there overnight every night, and Ignis needed a kitchen because he refused to allow Noctis to survive solely on hospital food and takeout that Prompto brought back. Luckily, the results from all his diagnostics came back that same morning—and they brought good news. Noctis would make a full recovery, given the time.

“We’ve seen these injuries like this before, caused by MTs,” a small woman in glasses explained to them, “We suspect that it may be some kind of paralytic agent they use in their attacks but, regardless, you should regain full use of your legs given time and appropriate physical therapy.”

On the third morning of his hospital stay, Noctis was just barely able to wiggle his toes. It was more little flinches than wiggles, but anything was better than total paralysis, and that was good enough for him. The relief in the room was palpable as the doctor explained that Noctis would be released that afternoon. They could rent one of the wheelchairs from the hospital for as long as needed and were given phone numbers and addresses for several physical therapists in the city.

Noctis was more than familiar with propelling himself around in the wheelchair; it was a skill he recalled being difficult to learn, but apparently even more difficult to forget. The uneven streets of Lestallum proved to be a bit of a challenge, but he rose to it with as much confidence as he could, reminding himself that the boy in the seat was not eight years old and terrified of the world anymore. He was twenty and substantially less afraid, and for every base that he couldn’t cover he had three unshakable companions to back him up. They would get through this— _he_ would get through this.

The journey to the Leville was otherwise uneventful, but when they got into the hotel room the well-worn wheels of the hospital wheelchair caught on the door threshold. Noctis sighed. So this was it: the next few weeks of his life. At the time of his childhood injury, his stay in Tenebrae gave the Citadel staff a short few weeks to make every area Noctis frequented wheelchair accessible. The Citadel had an abundance of elevators, but they were not so lucky with the rest of the building. Thresholds were done away with; plush carpet replaced with tile; outlets and switches adjusted to more appropriate heights; ramps built so he could traverse small groups of stairs; and Noctis’ entire ensuite bathroom was redone.

With the doorway as his first impression, he wasn’t so sure he’d have the same luck in the Leville.

A second try, a light push propelled him over the hump and into the room. Gladio and Ignis slipped in behind him to deposit various luggage and bags on the beds, leaving Prompto awkwardly twiddling with the hem of his shirt in the doorway.

“Well, I guess I could really go for a shower,” Noctis suggested, running a hand through his hair and cringing at the built up oils from the cheap hospital soaps. They were on the road, but that did _not_ stop him from using a quality shampoo, provided it was available. He propelled himself over to the bathroom and pushed the door open, intent on checking out how accessible the place _really_ was. The doorway was wide—though it had a similar pesky threshold like the front door—and, looking to his left, he found the counter at an acceptable height. Straight in front of him was the toilet, and on his left—

“Woah, hey Specs, did you know this place has a roll-in shower?” He backpedaled out of the bathroom for a moment, leaning back to find Ignis sorting through his duffel bag on the bed. The advisor nodded.

“We didn’t know if you would need the chair accessibility when we reserved it, but Gladio argued that we were better safe than sorry.” Noctis hummed in response as he moved back into the bathroom, pulling the shower curtain aside to see what he was working with. There were two shower heads—one mounted on the wall and one that was handheld—along with a retractable bench up against one of the walls, and several grip bars at various angles mounted around the space. Pretty much everything he needed; perhaps the hotel wasn’t as terrible as he thought.

Prompto poked his head in the door, too, curious to see what Noct was talking about. Noctis watched as he glanced around the room for a moment, taking in the differences, and then his eyes landed on Noct himself.

“Need something? You can use the bathroom if you need it before I shower.” Noctis said, bracing himself to be patient while Prompto got used to the whole dynamic.

The blonde remained silent for another moment, then shook his head. “No, I uh…” The prince peered up at him, expectant, but it suddenly occurred to Prompto that he had _no idea_ how to help a Noct in a wheelchair. “I-I was just wondering if you needed help with anything.”

Rather than replying right away, Noctis just smiled at him. It was a long-suffering look, usually the one he wore right before he poked fun at Prompto for some minor slip-up or another. The words that came out of his mouth were not so harsh, though. “Think you can go grab some clean clothes for me, and my shampoo? I think I saw Iggy sorting through my stuff on the bed.” Prompto nodded and left on his little mission at once. While he was gone Noctis stripped himself of his shirt, tossing it into a corner, and set out a few of the hotel towels so they were well within range of the shower. A moment later Prompto was back in the doorway, the requested items in hand.

“Are these good?” He asked, still hesitant. Noctis resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes—it was his stuff, of _course_ it was fine—because he knew Prompto was trying his best.

“Perfect, thanks bud,” he said, taking the clothes and shampoo from Prompto, balancing them on his lap, and then shut the door without another word.

Prompto flinched as the light breeze from the door ruffled his bangs. He cocked his head towards the other two, his brows knitted together. “Did I do something wrong?” Gladio patted the seat of the armchair next to his, beckoning Prompto over so he’d be out of Noctis’ earshot. The blonde sat, caught between averting his eyes in embarrassment and looking to his older partner for answers.

“Try not to worry too much about Noct, yeah? Not any more than you normally do, anyway. If he needs help, he’ll ask for it. Plain as that,” Gladio said and Prompto nodded, a light blush spreading across his cheeks. He felt more than a little foolish for thinking Noct so incapable.

By the time the bathroom door opened again Prompto had moved past his bout of embarrassment and was lounging on a bed, playing on his phone, Gladio was well invested in his current novel and Ignis was pulling out ingredients for an evening meal. Noctis, now clean and fresh-faced, backed himself in to the space that ran between his and Ignis’ bed and the wall before tossing the comforter and top sheet away from his side. The hospital bed he was in for three days didn’t do him any favors; he was beyond ready for the Leville’s plush, overstuffed mattress and all the pillows he could ever want. He paused for a moment, comparing his seat height to the actual height of mattress. There was a few inches difference, it turned out, with the bed, of course, being a few inches higher.

Well, at least getting _out_ of bed would be easier.

He leaned down and locked the brakes on both wheels, and then shifted forward in his seat, bracing one hand on the bed and one on the chair. He readied himself, then pushed off the chair and hauled himself onto the mattress. Due to the height difference he started slipping slightly, but caught himself and pushed further up the mattress. Now stable, he leaned over and lifted his legs up onto the bed one after the other.

“Shit, I’m a lot heavier than I was when I was eight,” he grunted as he settled into a sitting position. Prompto froze, still treading on eggshells in regards to the whole ordeal. Gladio, slumped in one of the armchairs, let the book in front of his face fall limp into his lap and gave Noctis a pointed look. Then, from the kitchen, came a familiar snort-badly-covered-by-a-cough and the other three looked to find Ignis cutting vegetables on the counter, a slight shake to his shoulders.

“Hey,” Noctis called as he positioned a pillow underneath his knees, “Are you _laughing_ at me?”

“Noct, you can’t just go around saying things like that and expect me _not_ to laugh.”

“Hmm, guess you’ll have to find a new place to sleep, then, ‘cause I’ve decided this whole bed is mine,” He huffed, flopping back on to the small nest he’d created. Ignis was not done yet, though.

“Please, as if you could sleep a wink without someone to snuggle up to.” Noctis, in response, grabbed hold of the comforter and yanked it over him so he was covered entirely. “Is that a no to dinner tonight, then?” The comforter shifted a little, and Noctis' head reemerged.

“Ignis I’m so tired,” he drew the last word out into a whine, “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“If you’re really not that hungry I won’t force you to eat,” Ignis said, though he had his suspicions. He liked to think that his own cooking was more enticing than hospital food or takeout, too.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll eat a big breakfast in the morning, promise. Even the oatmeal,” he interrupted himself with a yawn, and Ignis gave in.

“Fine, fine. More for us, I suppose.”

An hour later the other three were finishing up their dinner—roast garula and steamed vegetables seasoned with ginger—and Noctis was fast asleep under the comforter. It wasn’t often they got to see their partner in such bone deep exhaustion—even after days of hunting and fighting on the road, Noctis was still usually a troubled sleeper. Such relaxation was a welcome change.

“I think it’s more that he’s happy to be out of a hospital bed,” Ignis hummed, bringing dishes to the sink as Prompto scrubbed, “We were joking earlier, but I know it was difficult for him to sleep there. Too used to having a bed partner, I suppose.”

Later that night, Noctis stirred within seconds of Ignis moving onto their bed. Ignis cracked a smile when Noctis opened up his arms, like a child awaiting their teddy bear, but was more than willing to nuzzle up close to the prince once again.

 

* * *

 

Noctis spent his time almost exclusively in their hotel room as he recovered, save for going to the physical therapist three times a week. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy the outdoors—her certainly missed fishing—but he had no desire to meander through the uneven, rocky streets of Lestallum. The city was like a maze with its alleys, so one never knew when they might come upon a way that was only accessible by stairs. His condition did get a little better every day, though. Within his first week out of the hospital he’d regained a substantial amount of function in his feet and some sensation in his legs. He even swore that he could support a little of his own weight again when one of his three partners helped him stand, but it was certainly not his whole bodyweight. They still had a long road to full recovery.

They all did their best to keep him distracted, playing King’s Knight on their phones or round after round of card games. Noctis volunteered himself to help Ignis in the kitchen, much to the man’s surprise, since the small dining table was low enough for him to sit and work at. He chopped meat and, yes, even vegetables; grated cheese; whisked eggs; mashed berries and fruit; and kneaded dough at Ignis’ command. They even found time to answer Prompto’s unasked questions about Noct’s childhood injury—because they all _knew_ he had plenty, but was too shy to ask. Noctis tended to lead the stories of how life had gone at the time, but Gladio and Ignis chipped in with what they could recall. It was a difficult topic to broach, but Prompto was curious and always spun Noctis’ stories in a positive light.

“I mean, you were only eight and you learned how to walk again? Dude, that’s amazing, like, think about how strong you had to be to do that!” A light blush colored Noctis’ cheeks at the compliment. He moved to deny it, but Prompto continued, “And you’re even stronger now! It’ll take more than a few weeks off your feet to get rid of those muscles, am I right?”

Not every day went so well, though.

Noctis jolted himself out of sleep with a sob, the subject of the dream already escaping him. His father, looking younger, the sad faces of his nannies and the tall figures of the doctors from his childhood. Luna, exhausting herself as she tried to heal him. He tried to keep his tears silent, but to no avail. Once a particularly loud sob stirred Ignis he knew there was no hiding it. He shoved aside the blanket and reached out to his bed partner, his body wracking with sobs but also desperate for contact.

“Noct…? I’m here…we’re all right here,” He mumbled into the boy’s hair, pulling himself closer to the prince as he muffled his cries in Ignis’ chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The prince shook his head, so Ignis took that as a no, but after composing himself Noct forced out a few shaky words, “I-I miss my dad, Iggy,” another sniff, and a whimper, “They told me I’d n-never walk again, but he never stopped believing in me. If it weren’t for him, I never would have tried so hard. But I remember, the look on his face when I pushed myself out of my chair and walked over to him—!” He was overwhelmed with emotion again, the pressure in his chest getting the better of him as his voice escaped him. Ignis tightened their embrace, every sob like a knife to the heart.

“Everythin’ alright?,” Gladio’s voice, still thick with sleep, broke through dark room. The shield was a light sleeper on principle, but his sense was heightened as of late. He pushed off the comforter of his own bed and lumbered over to sit on the edge of Noctis’, taking the prince’s hand in his as he cried. Eventually he edged into the bed, lying down on Noctis other side and assisting him as he rolled over.

Though it had only happened a few times, Noctis always gravitated towards Gladio when he was grieving his father. Knowing that his shield was going through the same emotions, even if he only expressed them on rare occasion, was comforting. This time, a warm hand ran down his back while the other tangled in his hair. “It will get easier,” Gladio whispered into his ear.

When Noctis’ tears began to die down, he spoke again. “We’ll never be able to replace your dad, but we’re here for you too, alright? Actually, hold on.” Blankets shifting and the larger man pulling away prompted Noctis to roll onto his back again, blinking the tears out of his eyes to see what Gladio was up to.

“Wake up blondie,” Gladio barked, patting Prompto’s thigh as he circled around the bed. The boy jerked up from the pillow with a mumbled ‘whazzat?’ just before Gladio braced himself on the far side of the bed and pushed.

“Waahh! H-hey give a guy a minute—oh, hey Iggy.” Prompto surrendered to Gladio’s strength and let himself—and the bed—be pushed across the floor to sit flush with Ignis and Noctis’ bed. Boy, it’d been a while since they’d slept like this.

“Wait, why are you crying?” Prompto propped himself up on his elbows, reaching one hand over Ignis to wipe the tear tracks from Noctis’ cheeks.

“Just…missing my dad,” he mumbled, grabbing Prompto’s hand and intertwining their fingers for a moment. After Prompto let go Ignis snuggled closer, looping an arm over his waist.

“But we’re all here for you. You got that, yeah?” Gladio reaffirmed, flopping back on to the bed behind Prompto. He rearranged the mussed blankets for a moment, pulling them back over everyone in the hope that they’d be lulled back to sleep by the warmth.

“As long as you move this bed back to its original position in the morning, then yeah,” Noctis quipped. The closeness helped quell his sudden anxiety, but he’d rather have the room in its original position if he had to navigate it with a wheelchair, thanks.

“…You got it, Noct.”

 

* * *

 

After three weeks, they had to admit the hotel stay, wheelchair rental and physical therapy fees were digging deep into their budget.

“It’s less the chair and therapy, more the hotel and groceries—we’re used to hunting and gathering for most of our food, so it costs nothing. Buying meat and vegetables adds up quickly,” Ignis explained as they all loitered around the kitchen one morning. Noctis opened his mouth, no doubt to suggest they stop buying vegetables all together, but Ignis caught him, “But, we can’t just skip meals altogether. Or food groups.”

“Well, you handle the money most often, Specs, what should we do?”

“I’m going to volunteer Gladio and Prompto to resume hunts; while they’re out they can pick herbs, vegetables and fruit, and hopefully bring back meat if time allows. Not to mention it will have us earning gil again, and they can sell any treasures they find for more.” Noctis nodded from his place at the table. It was a perfectly sound idea, covering all the pitfalls they were experiencing with the lack of gil coming in.

“But,” Gladio weighed in, “It will be dangerous. We’ll be down two fighters, and I don’t trust either of us with magic spells.” He looked to Prompto, but the blonde made no move to deny the claim. He certainly didn’t trust himself with a fiery ball of death, either.

“Sounds like we’ll be more gatherers than hunters, but I’m down with that,” Prompto added.

It was shortly after that that Noctis took his first shaky steps holding on to the parallel bars in physical therapy. One therapist sat in front of him on a rolling stool, helping him bend his knees when they refused to listen, and the other stood close behind with the wheelchair, should he lose strength and fall back. The encouragement from Ignis, sitting nearby, spurred him on even as his feet dragged on the ground and his knees collapsed in. He was _walking_ —oh thank Eos he was walking again—and that meant someday he would run and jump and fight again. He thought of getting out of his wheelchair and walking to his father. He had to keep going.

Walking in the therapists’ office turned into Prompto holding his waist and helping him take small steps around the hotel room. First from one bed to the other, then from the bed to the armchair, from the armchair to the kitchen. The days flew by, but he was getting there, however slowly.

He nearly gave Ignis a heart attack one night when the man rolled over in bed to find Noctis’ spot empty. Snatching his glasses off the nightstand, he shot up and leaned over to Noctis’ side, expecting to find the prince on the floor, but the floor was devoid of any sign of him, too. His wheelchair still sat by the bedside, looking untouched from when it was parked there the night before.

“Noctis?” He called out into the room, not sure what he expected in response. Rather than another voice, the flush of a toilet and the bathroom door cracking open answered him. “Noct! Are you alright?” Ignis tossed the covers aside, at the prince’s side in a heartbeat.

“I’m fine, Ig. Just had to pee,” he moved past his adviser, steps slow and cautious, holding on to the wall for support, but otherwise making it back to the bed unassisted. Ignis could only stand there, something like pride and relief rising up inside him, until Noctis gave him a rather expectant look from the bed.

After six weeks passed since they first arrived in Lestallum, Ignis surmised it was about time for them to take their leave of the city. Noctis had walked all the way from the room to the café outside the hotel where they were having breakfast, and had recently remastered walking up and down stairs as long as he had a hand rail. The prince was proud to say he only needed one or two potions a day to stave off the fatigue and ache of pushing his legs to work until they couldn’t anymore.

“I just don’t think the benefits of staying here outweigh the drawbacks anymore,” he explained over breakfast, “If we move to Cape Caem we not only have a free place to sleep, but I can join Gladio and Prom on hunts to recoup our gil. You’ll also have plenty of people to support you at the house as you continue getting better. Never a dull moment, I’m sure.”

Noctis considered it. He was more than sick of the Leville’s dull walls and Lestallum’s uneven streets. Cape Caem meant a more private, spacious house and, more importantly, _fishing_.

“Yeah, I bet Iris’ll be overjoyed to have you around more often,” Gladio said, laughing as Noctis’ expression twisted into a cringe and he groaned, his mouth full of waffle, “Just kidding, just kidding. She will be happy to have a new sparring partner, though. She tells me Cor and Monica are getting too predictable.”

Noct hummed at the admission, which he didn’t doubt, given that Iris was an Amicitia.

“So Noct,” Prompto got his attention this time, “Whaddya say? Off to Cape Caem we go?”

Noctis nodded as he finished his waffle and Prompto was fist pumping before he even opened his mouth. He’d never understand Prompto’s need for attention from girls. “Yeah, as long as I can fish every day I’m there, let's do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Frank Sinatra's [song of the same name.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_XCVnV5CGh0) While not entirely relevant to the fic, this song really reminds me of their relationship as an OT4 and I love the lyric that precedes 'under my skin' which is 'I've got you'. This is slightly more relevant to the fic because Noctis is not the only one needing support here; it is not the three other boys that 'have got' Noct, it's everyone that has each other. Insert more sap here, etc. 
> 
> Thanks for listening to my sappy ramblings, and I hope you enjoyed!  
> [my tumblr](http://ferix-writes.tumblr.com/)


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